


Pretenders and Try Hards

by Desdemona



Series: There's Probably A Rolling Stones Song About This [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemona/pseuds/Desdemona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's about being tired of waiting and wanting. Sometimes, it's just about doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretenders and Try Hards

**Author's Note:**

> Set within 1x11 with very, very vague spoilers. One hopes that I caught any discrepancies but I'm extremely tired and should be job-hunting so be kind if there are any to be found. Thank you :)

 

 

For a sweet moment, she had him in her arms. She had that crooked smile tipped her way and those strong arms gripping her tight and close, as if he'd fight through hell to keep holding on.

Allison sighed, leaning against Scott's chest as they spun, a little haphazardly but the thrill of the speed they were moving at combined with his heart thumping against her ear left her smiling on the inside and out.

Nothing was wrong, nothing _c_ _ould_ be when he held her like that

And then it was over. He jerked them to a standstill and went wide-eyed, staring over her shoulder. She turned out of habit to see what frightened him only to feel his grip loosen and slip away.

When she turned back, Scott was gone.

Allison spun in a circle, frowning, and spotted his messy mop of hair fleeing through the crowd, followed closely by the coach.

“Well that was short,” she sighed.

“Actually, he lasted longer than I thought,” came right over her shoulder and Allison jolted hard, circling around yet again to find Stiles with his hands up in the universal _I mean no harm_ sign.

“Stiles, oh my God.” She slapped a hand on her chest where her heart still bounced about. “Really?”

“Sorry, sorry. I called your name, I swear.” At her eyebrow lift, his smile quirked into a lopsided grin. “Okay, so I didn't. I said it loudly in my head though, does that count?”

Allison crossed her arms. “Not even for extra credit.”

“Ouch.” Stiles clutched his heart, looking so comically broken up that Allison broke out into a laugh before she could stop it.

“Oh ho,” he grinned. “Made you laugh. Scott's out of the doghouse now.”

“He was never in it,” she muttered, trying her best to ignore the way the word _doghouse_ left her shaky on in the inside. She didn't want to think about anything even remotely related to the canine family.

“Good. Then if you would.” Stiles held out his hands, wiggling his fingers at her. “I am on dance duty until he's not running for his life.”

Allison narrowed her eyes. “What...oh you're kidding.”

“Nope. I am on strict orders to keep you happy and occupied and whatever other adjective that Scott wanted me to say so you wouldn't be mad that I'm basically chaperoning you around for the evening.” His smile went up a few more watts. “At least I'm cute right?”

“Ah,” she blinked. “Stiles, I...”

“Don't worry.” His smile didn't dim but Allison caught the quick look he slid to the side. “I know he's prettier.”

Allison snorted then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Wow, not ladylike at all.”

“I won't tell.” He wiggled his fingers one more time as if to say _c'mon, you know you wanna._

“Thanks.” She tilted her head to smile at him and finally placed her hands in his waiting ones because, well...it was true. Allison wanted to dance. She wanted to enjoy being in a school long enough to actually go to a dance.

She wanted to dance with Scott the most. But...well, they had a few more hours. The dance ended at midnight and it was barely nine if the massive clock parked above a section of the gym's bleachers was at all accurate.

What else was she going to do anyway? Jackson had disappeared and Lydia...well, she wasn't quite ready to deal with Lydia.

Stiles, at least, made her laugh.

She opened her mouth to say just that, to say _yes, okay, distract me, spin me around, do the freaking time warp again_ when the upbeat song switched down to a slower one.

Stiles paused mid-way to clasping her hand and gave her wide, dark eyes. Allison clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking her head because of course. Whitney Houston was obviously what you played at a high school dance.

Absolutely.

“Hey, we don't,” Stiles started, shifting from foot to foot. “We don't really. There's punch and mini corn dogs. I can make a mean napkin origami swan too. I'll even teach you.”

Allison choked on the laugh this time, fought the disappointment down. “Just dance, Stiles. It's okay.”

Stiles gave her an uncertain smile but took her hand when she lifted it to him again. Couples were drifting around them, leaving her to shift closer to him. It took them a minute to get into rhythm, a minute that jarred her because Scott had somehow always managed to be in step with her. Or at least it felt like he always was.

But then once they figured that out, Allison found herself rocking in a lazy circle with Stiles' hand politely on her back. They kept space between them and danced. It was peaceful and weirdly nice even if she glanced around every now and then to see where Scott was. She saw his hair here and there with the coach not far behind.

Her fingers flexed on Stiles' shirt. He glanced at her then around until he obviously spotted Scott.

“Damn,” Stiles murmured before meeting her gaze again. “I'm sorry. It's gonna be awhile, I guess.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” Allison hugged him on impulse, if only for how genuinely bummed he sounded for her. Considering that they weren't close, not really, it was really sweet.

The song ended only to roll into another song. She didn't recognize the voice here but Stiles just kept turning her, managing to stay in the beat. Allison let herself stay close, pleasantly surprised to find that this close, Stiles smelled minty and fresh, like maybe he'd been living on peppermints for the last hour.

Considering who she'd rigged him up with, maybe had. His crush was painful to watch sometimes, funny at others. But here, with him cradling her in quiet companionship, she wished that Lydia would wake up and get a clue. That could have been lingering anger too.

Allison didn't want to think about that though. The song finally came to an end, rolling into a faster, techno-ish beat again. She got ready to step back when Stiles tightened his grip, just a little. She glanced up at him only to see him watching something over her shoulder.

Allison turned and saw Lydia dancing freely with another guy. She thought he looked familiar and pinpointed him as someone on the lacrosse team but whom she literally had no clue. It wasn't Jackson though, which was bizarre but Allison didn't understand that particular on-again, off-again pyramid scheme of a relationship either.

Unless this was Lydia's way of getting Jackson's attention. Or just attention in general.

Allison swore softly and grabbed Stiles' arm, squeezing until he finally looked at her. Hurt played in the shadows around his mouth and there was so much wistfulness in his gaze that it actually broke her heart to pieces. Jagged pieces that stung her rib cage because was that how she looked whenever Scott was nearby?

Did she look that...destroyed?

“Stiles,” she said gently. “Hey.”

He blinked hard. “Hi, hey, wow. Sorry. Spaced.”

“It's okay.” It wasn't but what else could she say? “Do you still want to dance?”

Stiles looked around and she followed his gaze, until she spotted Scott lurking in the shadows. The coach wasn't nearby but his gaze swept through the crowd of bodies with eagle-eyed precision. Allison thought she caught Scott's smile and then knew for sure when he gave a tiny, miserable wave before running off again.

“Sure,” he said.

It was all she needed. Going on instinct, Allison tugged him a little further into a corner, away from Lydia and pulled him closer. Stiles blinked again, like he was having trouble pushing through how much Lydia's lack of interest bothered him.

The music thumped overhead from a speaker, giving her a beat to work with. She tugged on his arm, sighed when he didn't do more than shift then _yanked_. Stiles grunted as they collided, his hands dropping to anchor on her hips.

“What are you doing?” He brought his head down to be heard of the music, dumping the words directly into her ear.

“Dancing,” she said, shaking her hips from side to side. “C'mon, Stiles, you're supposed to dance with me, not help me mope.”

“Ah,” he started but Allison refused to hear it. Adrenaline whipped and rampaged through her. She wanted to do something, just to get rid of the ache of waiting. She was always waiting these days. Or being thrown into things like the stuff with her aunt.

And that, oh man, that she didn't even want to go near. Didn't want to think about for any reason whatsoever. She wanted to dance, with her boyfriend, with herself, with Stiles.

Movement. She just needed movement. Action. _Release._

Allison turned in Stiles' grip, her back to his front and rocked her hips back against him, wanting him to move with her. They were both guilty of waiting and wanting. It did nothing but bogged the soul down. Stiles gasped, just loud enough to be heard over the music. She rocked harder and his fingers dug in.

“Allison,” he said against her ear. “Allison, what are you...”

“Dance, Stiles. Right _now_.” She slapped her hands on his and ground her hips against him until he groaned, a defeated, shocked noise that rippled through her. Stiles wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed against her, meeting and matching her tempo in minutes. Triumph thrilled in her blood and she dropped her head back, resting on his shoulder.

Stiles knew how to move. It surprised her and then it felt mean to be surprised. But he was so gangly, his limbs so loose like he didn't have all the navigation down for his own body that it sent shock waves up her spine to feel him shift and sway with her. Allison shimmied to see if he could stay with it.

And found herself gasping in surprise when he ground his hips into hers, finally responding the way she'd been pushing. Her eyes popped open, making her wonder when she'd closed them and she dropped her hand to the arm around her waist. Lean, well-hidden muscle flexed under her palm, reminding her suddenly that Stiles was on the lacrosse team, that he went through the same exercises that Scott and Jackson did. He rocked into her again, hard and heavy. The sensation sent awareness careening through her body at breakneck speed.

This wasn't dancing anymore.

“Stiles,” she managed. “Stiles.”

“Mmm.” He actually rumbled and she realized his mouth was on her bare shoulder a second before the noise left him and threaded it's way through her muscles to spill warm and dangerous into her gut.

“What're we doing?” Allison dragged herself upright, wondering when she'd practically draped herself on him. Her hips kept rocking from side to side though, like she couldn't seem to stop moving now that she'd finally let loose.

“I don't know.” Stiles put his mouth back on her ear to respond and this time she bit her lip as his breath warmed her skin. “Do we stop?”

The song was still going strong. Maybe it _was_ a techno song, God only know how long those could actually go. She looked around for Scott, desperate for something besides Stiles to anchor her because he no longer felt...stable. Or maybe he felt too stable, too easy to melt against all over again.

But there was no sign of that floppy mess of hair. Even the coach looked defeated. Which meant he was hiding probably. She looked up at the clock and saw that midnight was still far, far away. The temptation to keep moving, to lose herself in the moves of her body pulled at her.

She dug her fingers into Stiles' arm and stopped moving. Stiles immediately dropped his arm, releasing her, stepping away from her and giving her space.

Allison turned to face him and realized they'd gotten further somehow, away from the crowd into a corner that wasn't as well-lit. Teachers drifted around, looking bored, but their corner was relatively empty of student and staff.

“Stiles,” she said slowly, lifting her gaze to his only to lose it all over again. Even in the dim light, she could see banked, guilty interest. She'd put that there, she knew she had. Allison couldn't even be sure if she'd meant to, if the driving need to do something besides suffer had made her start up a different kind of problem.

She licked her lips and swallowed when Stiles tracked the movement. His hands curled open and closed into fists.

“If we keep dancing,” she started. “It's not...it's gonna be...”

Stiles bit his lip, visibly trying to pull back. “You're right, you're right. That got out of hand, that's all. We don't have to. We do not have to.”

“But I want to.” Allison caught herself off guard as the words tripped off her tongue, uncaring of how damaging and destructive they were. How wrong because Scott was nearby, because she wanted Scott and Stiles....Stiles was something else all together.

And he wanted Lydia, more than anyone else in the world.

None of this was good. Allison still found herself stepping closer, her breathing growing heavier as the air snapped tight. He didn't move until she was up close, his body perfectly still save for his eyes that grew darker and warmer the closer she got.

Then he grabbed her wrist and tugged her until she bumped against him. Allison swallowed a moan, pressing against him even while her brain sent up the red flag. He leaned down until his mouth was at her ear again. She held her breath, waiting to see what he'd do.

“I do too,” he said, his voice wavering. “You have no idea how badly I want to keep dancing with you.”

She closed her eyes as he splayed his hand along her hip, tugging her close until she molded to him, until he was heavy and thick against her, even through their clothes. Stiles didn't move for a long moment, his hand gripping her and actually shaking. His tremors filtered through her until it felt like her bones shook with his restraint.

“So much,” he ground out. “But I can't.”

Allison started to turn her head only to freeze when he nuzzled her throat, lingering like he couldn’t resist. She actually felt the whimper well up in her throat. Allison took a sharp breath, swallowing the noise before it escaped.

“God, Stiles,” she whispered.

“I know.” Stiles straightened slowly, releasing her and stepping back. It took her a minute to realize the music had traded out again, to something mellow but easily danceable if necessary.

Allison met his gaze as guilt seeped in to fill her up, as if without the pounding bass to drown out their words, they were faced with their intentions, and those screamed loud and clear between them.

“What now?” she said, backing a little further and wrapping her arms around herself.

Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets, grimaced when the material pulled tight and took them out again. Allison told herself she only noticed because he did it right in front of her.

But that didn't ring true even a little bit.

“We find Scott,” Stiles said grimly. “Then you guys finish your dance before midnight because that's how this fairytale crap works and everybody's happy.”

“That's not what I meant.” Allison hugged herself a little tighter. “Stiles, you know that's not what I meant.”

“Okay well, this is what _I_ meant. You're a hell of a dancer, Allison.” He gave in and put his hands in his pockets, obviously uncomfortable with his hands free. “But I gotta go find my date.”

Allison blinked and glanced back to where Lydia had been only to find that the girl was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Jackson. _Or_ Scott.

“I'll help,” she started but Stiles shook his head.

“No, no. He'll find you, he's here. I can practically smell his hair gel.” Stiles backed away, yanking his phone out. “I'm gonna call him.”

“Stiles,” she began only to bite her lip when he turned around, his face smoothed out. “I just wanted us to not be miserable. Was that wrong?”

That serious face crumbled into a small smile. “Not even a little bit. A plus, Ms. Argent.”

“Extra credit included?” Allison dug up her own smile to give back and found that it didn't feel forced. It felt...relieved.

“I'll talk to the teacher.” He gave her a quick thumbs up and looked around before going wide-eyed and pointing. Allison looked over, didn't see anything and turned to see Stiles had disappeared. Frowning, she turned again only to see Scott with – what was his name? Danny? Danny – and looking as if they'd been mid-dance. The coach had Scott cornered dead to rights.

Well, almost.

She moved closer, just in time to hear the coach sputter and backpedal as Allison quietly processed with Scott had done.

Clever.

Scott caught her eye as the coach escaped from the spotlight of laser-eyed teenagers and smiled as he headed her way. She smiled back, raising her hand to absently touch the spot that still felt warm from Stiles' mouth and told herself it didn't matter.

Stiles was right.

All she needed was someone to dance with. No, all she needed was _Scott_ to dance with.

And then everything would be okay again.

There was really no other choice, was there?

 

 

 

 


End file.
